The shaman undid the seal rune Kellta had set.
The moment it vanished, Farha's fingers twitched. Her body began to convulse, yet the infection did not spread. Elion tried to keep watching despite the numbing exhaustion of his Soul Integrity being siphoned.
Orm grabbed a scalpel and etched a small rune onto the blade. It began to glow faintly gold. With utmost care, he traced the edge of the knife along Farha's neck, making shallow incisions to reach the Kral embedded inside. Strangely, she didn't bleed much—likely due to the life runes stabilizing her body.
The young shaman's eyes were locked in absolute focus. Every movement was precise and deliberate. He clearly knew anatomy well—perhaps not human anatomy specifically, but it was close enough. His training with the Dwellers of the Depths translated with disturbing ease.
Elion's skull throbbed; his body swayed, dizzy. Eshrod, too, looked strained, but she held up better. Her Soul Integrity was higher than his.
He glanced down at his arm.
[Soul Integrity: 25%]
Shit.
The runes were drawing more than he had expected.
Noticing him wince, Eshrod asked quietly,
"How're you holding up?"
"I'm fine… don't worry about me," Elion muttered, struggling to stay conscious.
The shaman didn't even glance their way. He was fully consumed by the task. The young cook watched the parasite shift under Farha's skin—Orm had found the Kral.
He reached for a pair of pliers and tried to pry it loose, but the thing held tight.
"Kel, I need you. Now," he said, urgency in his voice.
Kellta approached, hesitant. Orm handed her the bloodied pliers.
"Hold it in place. It's rooted deep."
He continued cutting—precise, steady incisions to free the parasite from Farha's neck.
Finally, with a gentle pull, Kellta managed to extract it.
It was a small, centipede-like creature, oily black, with long thread-like tendrils that squirmed behind it. They writhed, still embedded in Farha's flesh, slowly slithering out.
The Voice of God classified this thing as a Class III.
Farha's face twitched in pain—not fully conscious, but her body reflexively responding.
The Kral twisted violently in the pliers, its tendrils coiling up Kellta's sleeve. Without hesitation, she summoned the flames and burned the parasite to ash.
Orm didn't flinch, already working to stitch Farha up. His suturing was far more practiced than Elion's attempt after they escaped the Class V. Clean, fast, and efficient.
When the final knot was tied, he wiped sweat from his brow and erased the rune on Farha's neck, severing the system.
Elion gasped and collapsed to the ground.
The feeling of not being drained anymore felt almost alien… and deeply relieving.
Eshrod glanced at her arm and grimaced. The young cook did the same.
[Soul Integrity: 16%]
This… is dangerous.
Part of him regretted volunteering as the conduit; if Eshrod hadn't done the same, he'd be dead by now.
What's done is done. At least she's safe.
Orm washed his hands and nodded toward Kellta.
"Take her to one of the cots."
The fire-wielding imp lifted Farha's unconscious body and quietly disappeared into the adjacent room.
Elion and Eshrod remained, both slumped in exhaustion, gazes locked on Orm.
"She'll survive," the shaman said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Honestly, it's a miracle she made it this far."
He studied the two drained humans.
"So," he said, trying to sound casual. "How'd you meet Kel?"
"We were trying to find a way to save our friend when we ran into her," Eshrod replied simply.
"And she brought you here?" Orm raised an eyebrow. "To a place she hates—for a bunch of strangers?"
He rubbed his temples.
"She's always been too damn nice for her own good."
The door creaked as Kellta returned. Her gaze scanned the room, lingering a moment longer on Orm's face.
"Thank you, Orm," she said quietly. "I…"
But the rest of the sentence died on her tongue. Her eyes dropped to the floor.
"How touching," Eshrod smirked.
"Don't," Elion said, pulling her out of the room and leaving Orm and Kellta to catch up. "Chaos Gremlin."
They went to check on Farha. She was asleep now, her face peaceful— a stark contrast to the twisted expression she had worn before.
Elion sat beside her on a low stool, his thoughts tangled. He needed to go hunting—to kill something, anything, to restore his soul. But asking Eshrod for help still gnawed at him. He trusted her now, sure, but with his mind no longer clouded by madness, old doubts had crept back in.
It's not like I have a choice anyway. I'm not a monster like her or Kellta who can take on more than a Class I on my own.
He turned to Eshrod, jaw tight.
"I… I need to go hunting soon," he said.
She glanced at him.
"How low?"
"Sixteen percent."
Her brows lifted.
"Didn't peg you as the self-sacrificing type. Why volunteer if you were already that low?"
Elion shifted uncomfortably.
"I owed her."
Eshrod studied him.
"Right. Sure you did."
Why the sarcasm again? I really did owe her, nothing more.
They decided to hunt tomorrow. Hopefully Farha would be well enough to come along.
***
Meanwhile, Kellta sat at a table in the back room. Orm had prepared an herbal infusion—a customary gesture among the Dwellers of the Depths.
"I thought about you a lot while you were gone," he said, eyes not quite meeting hers. "Remember how inseparable we used to be?"
Kellta didn't respond. Her expression flickered—pain, guilt, maybe longing.
"When I took my father's role as shaman—something I'd dreamed about since I was little—I should've been proud. But during the ceremony, I kept scanning the crowd… hoping I'd see you there, even though I knew you wouldn't be."
Kellta ran her fingers through her lavender hair, revealing the broken stubs of her horns. Orm winced at the sight.
"I wanted to be there," she said finally. "You don't know how lonely those four years were…"
Her voice cracked despite her efforts to contain it.
"But you know I don't belong here. You know what they did to my father."
Orm stared down at his hands beneath the table.
After a pause, he asked,
"Those Light-Walkers, what do they mean to you?"
She stayed silent for a long moment, pondering how to answer.
"A way to break the curse," she said.
His eyes widened.
"There's… actually a way?"
Kellta nodded solemnly.
"I see…" he said, though he clearly wanted to ask more.
He rose, stretching his arms with a tired smile.
"I'm glad you're here, Kel."
And with that, he left the room.
Kellta slumped forward, resting her forehead on her arms.
Why are relationships so damn complicated?
Orm had been her childhood friend. Her only friend. They'd known each other since before they could speak.
Leaving the village had hurt—but leaving him had been worse.
Now he was here again… and the reunion hadn't gone the way she hoped.
She lifted her head and unclipped the scorched wooden mask from her belt, placing it over her face.
Mending old relationships was never the goal anyway—I'm leaving soon. Maybe forever.
Her heart twisted, but she ignored it.